Look. There will be days. Days when all you were trying to do was a flozzle, but it turned into a floozle, and now everything's a schmozzle. Sometimes you'll find yourself in the middle of several schmozzles at once. You might get mad. You might get sad. You might wish you were 3 so you could throw a supertantrum.
You'll think about telling them all, "Look, I had a 4.0 at a private university, doesn't that count for something?" or "I was Cinderella in the class play, that's a big deal!" or even "I went to prom with Tate Nelson! There were girls who'd give their right eye to go to prom with him!" But they won't care. They would cock their heads in confusion and put you promptly in the "hasbeenswishtheystillwere" box.
That's the bad news. High school and college don't matter too much, unless you're trying to get into college or grad school or get a job. That's quite a small slice of life. Your boss won't care that you read to small helpless children in your off time. He will still yell at you for getting that report out late. Don't even think about bringing up Tate Nelson.
There is also good news. If you were counted as a no one during high school or college, that doesn't matter either. Just being the tree in the school play is ok. They won't ask you that at neighborhood block parties. They don't care. What they will care about is that you make the best BBQ meatballs on the block.
Back to schmozzles. You have options. The first option is quitting. You can throw in the towel, chuck the report across the room, and tell your neighbor to mind their stinking own business and you didn't really want to win Neighborhood's Nicest Lawn anyway! You can be so frustrated and so mad that you just walk away and become a hippie living in a teepee and practicing tax evasion as a personal discipline.
As appealing as being a tambourine playing hippie sounds, there is another option. Re-evaluate. Ask yourself if they're telling you the truth. If they are, get better. If they aren't, let it go. You have bigger things to worry about than schmozzles. Chances are, they won't end the world, they probably won't even be the death of you. Take comfort in knowing you aren't the only one in the middle of one or two or three, and you'll pull through ok.
Courage, dear heart,
Little Miss Sunshine
You'll think about telling them all, "Look, I had a 4.0 at a private university, doesn't that count for something?" or "I was Cinderella in the class play, that's a big deal!" or even "I went to prom with Tate Nelson! There were girls who'd give their right eye to go to prom with him!" But they won't care. They would cock their heads in confusion and put you promptly in the "hasbeenswishtheystillwere" box.
That's the bad news. High school and college don't matter too much, unless you're trying to get into college or grad school or get a job. That's quite a small slice of life. Your boss won't care that you read to small helpless children in your off time. He will still yell at you for getting that report out late. Don't even think about bringing up Tate Nelson.
There is also good news. If you were counted as a no one during high school or college, that doesn't matter either. Just being the tree in the school play is ok. They won't ask you that at neighborhood block parties. They don't care. What they will care about is that you make the best BBQ meatballs on the block.
Back to schmozzles. You have options. The first option is quitting. You can throw in the towel, chuck the report across the room, and tell your neighbor to mind their stinking own business and you didn't really want to win Neighborhood's Nicest Lawn anyway! You can be so frustrated and so mad that you just walk away and become a hippie living in a teepee and practicing tax evasion as a personal discipline.
As appealing as being a tambourine playing hippie sounds, there is another option. Re-evaluate. Ask yourself if they're telling you the truth. If they are, get better. If they aren't, let it go. You have bigger things to worry about than schmozzles. Chances are, they won't end the world, they probably won't even be the death of you. Take comfort in knowing you aren't the only one in the middle of one or two or three, and you'll pull through ok.
Courage, dear heart,
Little Miss Sunshine
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